Workplace Interruptions on a Monday
by atlee
Summary: It's a usual Monday, back to work for Chuck, his family, and friends. Kind of. A continuation, of sorts, to "Conversations on a Saturday" and "Awkward Social Engagements on a Sunday."
1. Chapter 1

_So this story follows in the "tradition" of the "Saturday" and "Sunday" stories I'd done a while back. It doesn't follow plot-wise though; at this point it made more sense to reboot it up to where the current show is. Or at least where it was a couple of episodes ago. The show moves faster than my typing._

_Of course, I don't own "Chuck" or any of its characters. Also, I don't own, have not met, and don't follow the Twitter account of any real person mentioned in this story. And any opinions espoused about said people are not really mine, but of the characters in the story doing the espousing. And, as was stated earlier in this paragraph, I don't own those characters, so I can hardly be held responsible for their opinions._

_QED_

**Workplace Interruptions on a Monday**

**Part 1**

The ER wasn't Devon Woodcomb's usual stomping ground. As a surgeon, he usually spent his time upstairs, waiting for the patient fortunate enough to experience his scalpel.

Unfortunately, things hadn't gone so well for him last night's 'Burbank General Poker Night,' and he'd been forced to agree to sub in for a week at the ER. It had been either that, or seriously deplete his soon-to-be child's college fund.

As many people had told him through the years, Devon was a terrible liar. That, combined with his competitive streak, could become a bad combination. Which explained why he was always invited to 'Burbank General Poker Night.'

Devon gave the nurse on duty a cursory nod. "Hey Kelly, who's next?"

"You've got an arm injury in Room 2." Devon took the chart, and gave it a quick once-over. Pretty routine, and not much to get excited about. He headed over to the room, and knocked on the door. Without waiting for a response, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"Morgan?"

"Hey, uh Devon. Fancy seeing you here." The shorter man had been lying on the exam bed, twiddling his fingers while staring up at the ceiling. He now jumped back to his feet, and grinned at his friend. Devon noticed that he was holding his arm awkwardly as he did this.

"Ok, Morgan. What seems to be the problem?"

"So, Doc. Is this normal?" Morgan released his arm, and it swayed about at an unnatural angle. Devon winced.

"Geez buddy, what did you do?"

Morgan looked past Devon, apparently finding a spot on the wall very fascinating. Finally, he spoke quickly. "Well, I was playing basketball. And there was this really big guy on the other team, and he just ran into me. I swear, the guy was huge! I think he said he was on a pro team."

"Oh," Devon said dubiously. "What team?"

"The…Raidger…akers?"

Devon struggled not to smile. At least he wasn't the only one who had trouble lying. But his smile faded away when he considered the probable truth of the situation.

"Morgan buddy, there's no need to lie. I know."

Morgan gave him a confused look. "You…know?"

"I know Chuck's gone back to spying. And I figured you were part of it too."

Morgan sighed in relief. "So then I can tell you what happened. You see, there was this…"

Devon raised a hand in objection. "Please man, I don't need to know. I don't want to know. The last thing I need is for Ellie and I to get dragged into some crazy mission again."

Morgan pouted. "Man, are you sure? It's a totally cool story."

"Trust me. I don't like knowing that Chuck's a spy again, and the less I know the better I am. Ellie doesn't know anything about this, and I want to keep it that way."

Morgan didn't respond. Instead he seemed to find renewed interest in the exam room wall.

* * *

General Diane Beckman surveyed her surroundings with a mixture of disgust and apprehension. In the course of her career, she'd been in many far-flung locations across six of the seven continents. She could speak a dozen languages, knew a wide range of local customs, and could feel comfortable in the most primitive of locations.

The showroom of the Burbank Buy More, however, was something altogether different.

Unfortunately, the CIA's takeover of the chain store branch meant that she had to occasionally set foot on the premises. She already hated California, but the rest of the godforsaken state was paradise compared to the canned music, recycled air, and forced cheerfulness that currently surrounded her.

When it had originally opened, the base/store had seemed much more inviting. But she had been convinced that the place would appear much less suspicious if it had its share of "regular" employees. That particular species was currently milling about, and only rarely doing anything productive. The General still couldn't believe that this was currently one of the few government enterprises turning a profit.

Still, she wasn't here to inspect the showroom, but the base underneath. And the sooner she could get down there, the better. Before she could make her escape, though, a voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Excuse me! Are you in charge here?"

The General turned around to scrutinize the owner of the somewhat annoying voice.

The woman was clearly a doctor, judging by the blue scrubs. If she had much of a bedside manner, though, it wasn't evident from the green eyes staring back at the General.

She was also very, very pregnant.

This last item made the General feel slightly uncomfortable. "Um, well the Manager stepped out, but I'm sure he'll be back soon. If you have any concerns about the products here…"

"No. I mean in charge of what really goes on here."

Damn. Casey was off on a mission, Walker was undercover with Volkoff, and lord knows where Bartowski was. Any infiltration by the enemy, even a pregnant one, was a problem.

One of her people must have noticed something, and came running towards them. "Is something wrong?"

Beckman glanced at the man, and then back to the strange woman. While clearly unhappy, she didn't seem to pose any immediate danger. In fact, her face seemed slightly familiar.

"Uh no, thank you Greta. Everything is fine."

The woman looked momentarily distracted as the man left. "I've never seen a Greta with a full beard before," she commented.

That was one thing the General needed to fix while on site. Thanks to a clerical issue, all cover identities had been set to Greta. Stupid budget cuts.

Seeing the woman's eyes return to her, Beckman said, "Perhaps we could speak in private."

The General led the pregnant woman to the currently empty Manager's office, and shut the door. A number of security safeguards had been set up in the room, so she would be ready if worst came to worst. The woman certainly looked pregnant, but who knew what she could be hiding underneath. "Now, what is this about?" she asked warily.

"I want to know why you forced my brother back into the CIA."

* * *

"Ouch!"

"Relax buddy, I have to examine the arm to make my diagnosis." Devon looked up at his patient, who had slid back to the edge of the bed. He wondered if he was going to try to make a break for it.

"Alright alright, but do you have to examine it so roughly?"

"Just try not to think about it, and you'll be fine."

"Well, what am I supposed to think about? You won't let me tell you about the mission."

"I told you, ignorance is bliss."

"As much as I've subscribed to that particular motto in my life, I really hate having to keep secrets." Morgan thought for a moment. "What if I were to change the details, so you won't actually know anything?"

"Fine," Devon relented, more in the interest of getting a cooperative patient than out of any curiosity. At least for the most part.

"Ok." Morgan relaxed and returned his arm to Devon. "So let's say there is this totally evil arms dealer. Named… Ashton Kutcher."

Devon looked up from his examination. "Ashton Kutcher?"

"Hey, I needed something that sounded appropriately evil." Morgan took a moment to wince as Devon moved his arm slightly, then continued. "So…Ashton Kutcher was looking to sell this…cheese grater, one that's completely undetectable by most methods of surveillance. We'd found out that several foreign nationals with links to terrorism were interested in it. So we were going to pose as potential buyers."

"So, our team gathered together. Me, and…Bruce Wayne, and…Billy Dee Williams, to figure out exactly what our cover would be. Unfortunately, Sarah…" Morgan clapped his free hand to his mouth, realizing he'd slipped. "…Lancaster was on a separate mission, and couldn't attend."

"Uh, Dude," Devon said in amusement, "I can see through your code, but you don't need to make up names there. I know you mean Chuck and Casey."

Morgan nodded in relief. "That makes things easier. Anyway…"

"Hold on. Who's Sarah Lancaster?"

"Oh, she's an actress. She was in 'Saved by the Bell, the New Class.' Totally hot. You'd love her. Ow!" Morgan exclaimed after Devon moved his arm slightly. "Gently, man!"

"Alright, sorry." Clearly, Morgan wasn't the type of spy who'd hold up to harsh interrogation. "Carry on with your story."

* * *

General Beckman sighed. Of course she couldn't rely on Bartowski to keep a secret. She'd slowly come to appreciate his many strengths, but his disturbing fondness for honesty and openness was something she still disliked. Sometimes, he just didn't see the big picture. "So he told you."

Bartowski's sister – Ellie, if Beckman remembered correctly, made a face. "Actually, no. I had to find out second-hand."

Beckman immediately guessed what Ellie meant. It was a good thing the tenant of their chosen meeting place was temporarily absent. A very sloppy tenant, judging by the mass of post-it notes and pads of paper littering the desk she was seated at. "Let me guess. Grimes."

Ellie nodded. "Grimes." She briefly smirked, apparently amused by the General's immediate understanding of the situation. "He admitted that Chuck has been working for you again. For about four months now."

There wasn't much reason to lie now. "That is correct."

"After he'd promised me that he'dquit the CIA."

Beckman nodded again, but didn't say anything.

"Why?" the doctor asked.

The General answered quickly. "Agent Bartowski is a valuable member of our team, and has directly aided in the resolution of many dangers, internal and external, to our country."

"That sounds like some internal memo," Ellie challenged. "It's not an answer." She moved closer, almost waddling in her current state, towards the desk and leaned in towards the General. "You seem to keep forgetting that my brother is a person, and not just the computer you stuck inside him."

"_He_ stuck inside himself," the General reminded her.

Ellie waved this aside. "You don't seem to be too concerned about his safety, do you? But it is to me. I don't care what kind of mission you have him on now, but what I do care is that he doesn't get himself killed."

"Actually," the General said, her eyes glancing at one of the post-it notes on the desk. "_I_ didn't send him on his current mission."

* * *

Chuck couldn't remember the last time he'd actually had to do an offsite install. The new Buy More seemed to place less of a premium on cover, as there were fewer people to convince. It also didn't hurt that the manager was his best friend.

However, that best friend had now decided that Chuck needed to keep his mind occupied in order to avoid dwelling about his absent girlfriend. Which was why Morgan had sent Chuck to the storefront he was currently staring at.

It certainly didn't look like a place with network installation needs. In fact, it didn't look like there was any business there at all. At least not any legal business. Chuck's spy instincts were developed enough to put him on edge. It could be a trap.

He'd been told to use the entrance in the back, so he carefully walked around the building, ever mindful of possible dangers. None appeared, and he had soon arrived at the large metal door. He gave it a tug, and it opened.

Hoping the Intersect was ready to cooperate in case it was necessary, Chuck considered the information Morgan had handed him this morning. The details had been vague, which might not mean anything other than the customer not being particularly computer savvy.

Still, the room didn't exactly inspire confidence. If this was a place of business, the business was apparently selling boxes. Large, dusty ones, and Chuck doubted there was much of a market for that. He felt himself get even more on alert.

Chuck slowly worked his way around the maze of cardboard, waiting for the inevitable trap to be sprung. Annoyingly, nothing happened, and soon he saw an office up ahead, the door slightly ajar. Through it he could see a large desk, with a chair behind it, turned away from him. As he inched closer, the chair turned around.

"Ah, there you are. Nice to see you again, Schnook."

* * *

_Hope you are enjoying the story so far. It won't be a long one, and hopefully I will have the next installment in a few days. _

_As always, reviews are greatly appreciated and valued. Hint hint._


	2. Chapter 2

_I don't own "Chuck", I don't own Mondays, and I don't own "I Don't Like Mondays" (that'd be the Boomtown Rats, last time I checked)._

**Chapter 2**

"Ja—Mr. Burton?" Chuck asked in surprise.

Sarah's father was seated in the chair, his hand cradling a glass of what appeared to be bourbon. He studied Chuck quietly, putting his feet up on the desk.

Chuck took the momentary silence as a chance to examine the room. Unlike the rest of the storefront, the office was comfortable. In addition to the leather chair, artwork lined the wall, and soft classical music played in the background. It reminded him of a less creepy version of Jeff's "office" at the Buy More.

The one comfort it seemed to lack was a second chair, and Chuck was forced to stand there, waiting for Jack to speak. Finally, the awkwardness of the situation forced him to speak. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Jack motioned behind Chuck. Turning around, he could see a large flat-screen TV mounted to the wall.

"You want me to hook up your TV?" Chuck asked incredulously.

"Well, you do work in an electronic store, don't you?"

Chuck sighed. It seemed ridiculous, but he should probably take any opportunity to get closer to Sarah's family. And Jack Burton was the only part of her family he knew. He knelt down, and began to untangle the maze of cords.

"You know," he said, "I'm really more of a computer guy. There are other people that would be better at this."

"Perhaps," Burton said behind him, "but I'm sure you'll do fine. Besides, I figured you'd be more than willing to help out the father of the woman you're about to ask to marry."

Chuck turned around in surprise. Jack was still seated at the desk, his expression unreadable. "So you've been talking to Sarah?" he asked.

Jack smiled briefly. "I keep forgetting that's what she's calling herself these days. But no, actually, we haven't spoken in a while."

"Then how…"

"Oh, I have a source at your store."

"There's a spy at the Buy More?" It took Chuck a few seconds to realize the irony in that statement.

"Yeah, some tall kid, big red hair. I 'hired' him the last time I was in town. He's been sending me regular updates. Hey," he added, seeing Chuck's reaction, "a good father needs to know what's going on in his daughter's life."

It took Chuck less time to see the irony in _that_ statement. He returned to the TV, and turned on the power. The blank screen reflected across the room, giving all of its contents, face of prospective father-in-law included, and odd blue sheen.

"So, are you going to be sticking around then? You know, for the wedding and everything?"

Jack smiled again. "You're assuming she's going to say yes."

Chuck couldn't resist the momentary surge of self-confidence. "Oh, she's going to say yes. But I know she'd love to have you around." He looked around the room. "We both would, actually. I'm sure we can find you a nicer place to stay, if that would help."

Burton shrugged. "This meets my needs."

Chuck found a stray set of cords, and plugged them into the input jack on the TV. The screen shifted, and now showed the outside of the storefront. "Surveillance?" he asked.

"Can never be too careful."

Feeling his suspicions confirmed, Chuck gave Jack a level gaze. "You're on the run from someone, aren't you?"

* * *

"Anyway," Morgan said from behind the X-ray machine, "once we'd settled on our cover, we headed out to the meeting in the People's Republic of…East St. Louis. Chuck was the buyer, and Casey was his personal bodyguard."

"And you?" Devon asked as he tried to remember how the machine worked. Normally, he would bring a nurse or technician in to help, but Morgan had insisted that he tell his story in private.

"I was the chauffer, Monitoring from the car. The eyes and ears of the mission. Command central, if you will."

"Uh huh. Could you move a little to the right?"

"Ok, just a second. So Chuck met Ashton Kutcher's associate… John Mayer, and everything was going well. Chuck was pursuasive, Casey was scary, and I… Hey, this thing isn't going to keep me from having kids, is it?"

Devon chose not to dwell on the idea of Morgan procreating. "So what happened with John Mayer?"

"Well, the deal was almost set, and then you wouldn't believe what happened."

"What's that?"

"This woman…we'll call her Fergie, just comes right into the limo!"

"You mean you left the door unlocked?" Devon asked in surprise.

"Not the point. Anyway, she just comes right in and totally ignored me when I told her she was in the wrong car."

"So, she was attractive?"

"Well, maybe in a conventional way. Nothing compared to Alex, of course. And it didn't matter, I was trying to do my job but she wouldn't leave."

"I see." Devon replied, still struggling to remember the correct sequence of buttons to press to take the x-ray.

"Finally, I got her to stop complaining, and I thought she was about to leave. And that's when it happened."

Devon looked up. "She grabbed you by the arm?" he asked, guessing at the nature of Morgan's injury.

"No, but I felt this prick on my neck, and then everything went blank."

* * *

"My first reaction after I found out was that it must have been Sarah's doing. She convinced him to return, at your behest."

The General snorted. "There was a day that I could maybe influence Agent Walker when it came to Chuck. That day has long past." Three years ago, this would have bothered her. Fortunately, protecting Chuck and the country's best interest had usually fallen in line together. So the fact that Agent Walker's choice to go undercover had less to do with bringing down Volkoff and more to do with making her boyfriend happy was something the General could live with.

The doctor nodded. "I know. I may not know much about Sarah, but I know she wouldn't put him in danger. So I had another talk with Morgan, and managed to find out that Chuck wanted to find a new job, but all of his interviews were sabotaged. So he didn't really have a choice."

The woman was getting excited, and Beckman began to feel nervous that it might send her into contractions.

"So," Ellie said, now calmer, "I realized that somebody powerful must have been pulling a lot of strings. And that brought me here. How can you interfere with a man's life like that?"

"We're the CIA," the General responded. "We can do anything."

The doctor harrumphed, but didn't comment further. Apparently feeling the discomfort of her present state, she looked around the room before finding a second chair. It didn't look particularly comfortable, and was rather low to the ground. Beckman guessed that Grimes wanted to feel taller than anyone coming to see him, and that would require some very small chairs.

"So then, why?" Ellie repeated her earlier question once she'd found her way into the seat. "If your CIA is so all-powerful, why do you need Chuck? Why do you need to take away his chance at a normal life?"

* * *

"So the next thing I knew I'm hanging from the wall in this warehouse in the really bad part of … East St. Louis. I can't get free and I don't see any way out."

Devon alternated between looking up at Morgan, and studying the x-ray. The story had momentarily been interrupted by the nurse coming in to help with the machine, but now that she had gone, the tale had re-started.

"I could see Fergie standing there, watching me. But she was clearly waiting for someone."

"What happened next?" Devon was starting to get invested in Morgan's story.

"Well, a lesser man might have tried to bargain, but I knew that it would be of no use. And I could handle a little torture."

Devon remembered Morgan's reaction when he'd tried to touch his arm a few minutes ago, but decided to let the other man have his moment.

"Finally, I heard footsteps behind me, and then someone say, 'Tell me who you're working for, and your death will be quick.'"

"'You'll never get anything from me!' I replied. The man snorted. He moved closer into view, and I found myself staring into the cold, dead eyes of Ashton Kutcher."

"Hmm," Devon said. "Was Demi there?"

"No, Demi was not there! You're missing the point of the story. There is no Demi. Ow!" Morgan had gotten excited and had tried moving his arm. He cradled it for a moment, before admitting, "Although for what it's worth, I do think he was sleeping with Fergie."

"So he tried torturing you, then. Wrenching his arm out of its socket?"

"Uh, no. It didn't go down like that."

* * *

"You can never be too careful in my line of work," Jack Burton explained, briefly looking away from the TV screen.

"So who did you rip off this time?" Chuck asked. "The mob? Libyan terrorists?"

"Please, I always make sure I know who I'm dealing with. Actually, it was just some guys who wanted me to make them a commercial."

"Seriously?" Chuck asked.

"Yup. Easiest job in the world. Set up a few fake references, cut some images together that I dug up, and give off the right artsy, pretentious vibe. I even convinced them this ad will air during the Super Bowl, if you can believe that."

"So who were they?"

Jack shrugged. "Some guys from some Dot-com."

Chuck sighed. "So you took their money, and now they're after you." He stepped away from the TV, and stood over Sarah's father.

"Who knows, maybe they liked the footage I gave them. There have been worse ads than fifteen seconds of a chicken playing the piano." Jack rubbed his chin. "Then again, I never used the stuff they gave me."

"They gave you something?"

"A couple of images they wanted to include in the ad. You know, the corporate logo, that kind of thing." He reached into his desk. "Here, I have it if you want to see it. Just plug this in and pop it up on the screen. You know how to do that, right?"

Chuck rolled his eyes as he grabbed the flash drive. Thank goodness Sarah didn't inherit too much of her father's 'charm.' He popped in the drive, and leaned over to watch the screen.

A second later, he felt the flash steamroll his brain.

* * *

General Beckman leaned forward in her chair. "From what I've seen of your family history, the Bartowski's were far from normal long before Chuck first got the Intersect." The General felt a pang of annoyance as she said this. Her lack of knowledge regarding the identities of Orion and Frost had always felt like one of her biggest failures.

"My parents may not have been normal," Ellie responded, her eyes flashing slightly, "but they always wanted a normal life for Chuck and I. And I worked hard to give that to us."

When the General had originally read Chuck Bartowski's file, she had been surprised to learn of how he had practically been raised by his sister. Now she could see how Ellie had managed to find the strength to work her way through school while raising a younger sibling. Ellie Woodcomb was a formidable woman.

Still, Beckman didn't have the time to deal with formidable civilians. And this wasn't exactly a conversation she particularly wanted to have. So she'd just have to nip things in the bud.

"Tell me, Ellie," she said, "did you ever ask Chuck what _he_ wants?"


	3. Chapter 3

_According to 4 out of 5 dentists, I don't ask "Chuck." Though honestly, I don't know what dentists know about copyright law. _

_The fifth just kept going on and on about flossing. To be honest, I'm not sure he even heard the question._

**Chapter 3**

Eleanor Woodcomb blinked in surprise at the question. General Beckman watched her site there quietly, before the look of determination returned to her face, her jaw once again set in resolution.

"You think I don't know my brother? I watched him grow up. I lived with him for years after he was kicked of Stanford. I know what's important to him. I know what he wants. Had you given him the chance, he'd have been happy at one of those jobs you kept him from taking."

Beckman leaned forward. "Maybe. But I distinctly remember when he first came into this office to apply for a job, and saw me there, sitting in the store manager's chair. He was relieved."

The General wasn't sure why she seemed to be enjoying this. She'd always liked debates, of course. She never would have gotten as far as she had without being good at persuasive speaking. But that was about foreign policy and tactics, not about one person's happiness. She didn't have time for this. She should be downstairs, inspecting Castle.

Still, she sat there, waiting for Ellie Bartowski to respond.

* * *

"What's the matter with you?" Jack Burton's question returned Chuck to his present surroundings.

"Uh, sorry. I was just…concerned by what I saw," Chuck quickly covered. "I hate to tell you this, but those guys aren't from some start-up internet company. They're terrorists."

"I beg your pardon?" Jack asked. "And how exactly do you know this?"

"I just do," Chuck replied tersely. "You'll have to trust me on this. The government has had their eye on them for a while, and that commercial they wanted to make was actually going to be used as a way to communicate while staying completely above surveillance."

"Right in front of the eyes of the entire nation," Jack chuckled. "Got to admit, it's pretty ballsy."

"Well, ballsy or no, they plan to do a whole lot of damage to a very large city."

"Well it's a good thing I didn't complete their ad, then." Jack gave Chuck a self-satisfied smirk. "They should have known not to trust me."

"Well, they probably wanted somebody small-time enough to be under the radar." Chuck gave his prospective father-in-law a pointed glance. "And one they could easily eliminate when the time came, without being missed."

"You know, given your relationship with my daughter, you should be sucking up to me rather than insulting me." Jack watched Chuck pull a phone out of his pocket. "What are you doing?"

"I need to report this."

"So you're just going to turn me in?"

Chuck sighed. "You could testify, you know. Describe your meetings with them, who you met. It will make it easier to bring them in."

Jack shook his head. "That's not going to happen."

"Why not?"

"Because they're already here."

* * *

"'It occurs to me that you only need a tongue to talk, my friend. Removing a couple of other appendages, say an arm or a leg, won't prevent you from telling me what I want. It might even help.'"

Morgan said all of this is a hissed voice, which would have given Devon chills if it wasn't for the bad parody of a … East St. Louis accent he was using.

"What happened then?" Devon asked.

"Well, Ashton Kutcher comes up to me with this really nasty knife. Strapped down like I was, I couldn't do a thing. But I wasn't going to talk. We Grimes come from tough stock."

Devon chose to let Morgan have his moment, though he wondered if he'd be able to do some 'fact-checking' with Chuck later on. He sat down in the exam room chair, and motioned for Morgan to continue his story.

"But then, this other voice said, out of nowhere, 'Hello, Ashton.'"

"Now what?"

"Well, we all turned to look, and there was John Mayer. He had a gun, pointed directly at Ashton Kutcher."

"No way!"

"I was surprised too. But I don't think Kutcher was. He just looked at Mayer for a while and said, 'I was wondering when this day would happen. Planning to go into business for yourself, are you?'"

"'I've found some buyers, and it seems like you're just in the way of the deal we've made together.'"

"Really. And I suppose you think you can just take the…cheese grater from me?'"

"'I'm sure I can figure something out.'"

Morgan leaned back on the exam room bed. "Ashton Kutcher chuckled," he said, continuing on, clearly enjoying telling the story. "'Enough of this. Fergie, kill him.'"

"Fergie raised her gun, but not at John Mayer. She fired, and Ashton Kutcher fell."

Devon jumped to his feet. "No way! You mean, Fergie was with John Mayer, and not with Ashton Kutcher?"

"Yeah, that's what I…" Morgan trailed off, his eyes focused on the door. Devon turned to see the nurse standing there, a wry smile on her face.

"Um, Kelly. We were just…" Having Chuck's and Morgan's secret CIA identities passed around the hospital was a bad thing. Especially since it could get back to Ellie.

"I was just bringing you the X-ray," the nurse said. "And letting you know that there's a ruptured appendix in Exam room 2." She handed Devon the x-ray and turned to leave. "You know," she said, just before walking out the door, "the doctor's lounge doesn't just stock _People Magazine_. There's _Time_, _Sports Illustrated_, and _Burbank Living_. But I'll let you get back to your celeb gossip for now, but that appendix won't wait for long."

With that, she left the room, leaving Devon and Morgan to stare at each other blankly.

* * *

"Of course!" Chuck's sister finally said, "the reason Chuck was happy about returning to the CIA is Sarah. He's happy he gets to work alongside her again."

Rather than respond, the General reached downward and opened one of the desk drawers. Back in Washington, she always had a bottle of scotch conveniently at hand. Unfortunately, a search through Grimes' desk only revealed several candy bars and cans of grape sodas. Shaking her head, she looked back at Ellie. It was clear this conversation was going to continue for a while, and scotch would have been a help.

"When your brother and Agent Walker first started working for me," she began, "it became clear pretty quickly that there was some sort of attraction between the two of them. They each had their own clumsy ways of trying to hide it, but they never worked."

"At first I wanted to stop it." The General raised a hand when she saw Ellie's face darken. "It's my job to ensure that my team is fully focused on protecting this country, and any romantic entanglements could get in the way of that."

"I went so far as to set up an investigation of the nature of their relationship. Had they failed, I was ready to transfer Agent Walker to Alaska, or some other remote outpost. But I realized that, surprisingly, their feelings, awkward and messy as they were, actually seemed to help them succeed as agents."

Of course, the truth of the decision had been a bit more cold-blooded than that. When they had actually been foolish enough to tell her about their relationship, her choice had been based on a balancing of risk. And the improved performance that seemed to occur when Bartowski and Walker were happy outweighed the risks caused by their unwillingness to risk each other's lives when the situation depended on it. And ultimately, their feelings would be there whether they acted them or not. At least if they were sleeping together, they'd be a little less stressed.

She said none of this to Ellie. Instead she said, "But I found myself wondering about why their dynamic worked. Why something as unpredictable as an emotional entanglement could make your brother a better agent. And you know what I came up with?"

Ellie shook her head.

"When they were on missions together, Agent Walker always provided support, encouragement. Told him he'd done a good job when he had, and helped him learn from his mistakes. It was more than what you'd get from teammates. It was more like what one expects from one's family."

"I've always supported Chuck!" Ellie retorted. "I've been there for him, looked after him, encouraged him…"

"To do what he wants to do?" the General finished the other woman's sentence.

* * *

"Damn." Chuck didn't particularly want to do this. Especially without Sarah or Casey as backup.

He looked up at the TV screen, and saw three men dressed in black move stealthily around the building. One moved towards the front entrance, while a second went around to the back. The third man stayed behind, apparently guarding against any attempts at escape. All three carried automatic weapons.

"Well, I guess there's no time now," Chuck announced, swallowing the sour taste of fear in his mouth. "You'd better stay here."

"What are you going to do?" Jack asked.

"Whatever I can."

While Jack watched, Chuck opened his briefcase and pulled aside the false bottom. As he retrieved the gun from underneath, he saw the other man's eyes widen. "Relax, it's a tranq."

"You know, one of these days you'll have to tell me who you and my daughter work for."

"That's up to her. I'll be right back."

Stepping back into the main room, Chuck ducked behind a large stack of boxes. Peeking to the side, he saw one of the men enter the room from the outside door. As he quietly maneuvered to find a better angle, the familiar flash began. Chuck fired, and the man went down.

The commotion seemed to make enough noise that the front door opened and the other man peeked inside. As soon as he stepped in the building, though, a set of metal crowbars fell from their awkward perch over the door and onto the man.

"Why do you think I told you to take the front door?" Jack asked from the front door. Chuck silently thanked himself for listening to the man, and that he hadn't done anything to deserve becoming a victim to his booby traps.

But there was still one more armed man outside. "Stay here!" Chuck hissed, and walked out through the back door. Hopefully, the sentry had stayed in front, and Chuck could sneak up on him.

Unfortunately, the other man had been waiting for him.

* * *

"So," Morgan finally said, pointing to the x-ray in Devon's hand. "What's wrong with me?"

"No way, man. Finish the story first."

Morgan shrugged. "Ok. So right after John Mayer shot Ashton Kutcher, he and Fergie turned their eyes to me. 'Who's he?' Mayer asked.'"

"'He was lurking outside your meeting. I think he's CIA, or NSA, or something like that.'"

"John Mayer looked me over. 'This guy?' Isn't he kind of short to be a spy?'"

"I totally thought that was unfair. I'm at the 20th percentile for my age and ethnicity. But anyway, John Mayer then said, 'Either way, we should probably get rid of him.' So I'm looking at the wrong end of a gun again."

"Then there was a crash, as Chuck and Casey burst through the door. Chuck comes in and does his crazy kung-fu thing against John Mayer, and he's down on the ground."

Devon believed it. He'd seen Chuck fight before, and in a word it was…spectacular.

"Fergie was about to shoot Chuck, but Casey came up behind her, gun drawn, and said, 'Don't even think about it, Sister.'" Devon was surprised at the accuracy of Morgan's Casey impersonation. It was way better than his Ashton Kutcher.

"Chuck untied me and got me back to my feet. As we were about to leave, Chuck turned to Casey. 'What about the cheese grater?'"

"Casey smiled grimly. 'Not to worry. I'll get them to tell me. But let's get out of here. I've had just about enough of this place.'"

"'We're leaving now? Aren't we at least going to get some St. Louis food while we're here?'"

"But my protest, reasonable as it was, was ignored. We had to head back. Once we were in Burbank, Casey did his scary interrogation thing, and we were able to learn where the…cheese grater was being kept." Morgan finished his story, and leaned back in satisfaction. "So, what's up with my arm?"

"Oh. Just a sprain, as it turns out, nothing broken. Just put some ice on it, and take it easy."

Morgan jumped to his feet. "Great! Got a date with Alex tonight. Thanks a lot, doc."

"Wait!" Devon interrupted. "You told me that whole story, but you never hurt your arm. How did it happen?"

"Oh, right." Morgan turned back. "I fell down Castle steps when we got back. See ya later, doc."

* * *

Before he could react, Chuck was pushed into the building's wall, the tranq gun falling harmlessly to the ground. "Where's Jack Burton?" the man growled.

"He's not here," Chuck mumbled, feeling the muzzle of the gun against his ear.

"I don't believe you," came the snarled reply.

Thankfully, before the debate could continue, the flash kicked in. Chuck kicked behind, knocking the man down. A second well-timed move knocked the gun away. The man was well trained, but not Intersect trained, and soon was on the ground.

"Well if you were asking for permission for my daughter's hand, you got my blessing."

Chuck turned to see Jack standing at the doorway, looking down at the unconscious assassin in wonder.

"Uh, thanks. But you may want to clear out of here, Mr. Burton. I've got to call this in."

Jack nodded. "Call me Jack. And listen, I can return the favor. I've got a guy that deals in jewelry…"

Chuck raised a hand in protest. "You want to sell me a knock-off engagement ring to give to your daughter?"

Jack smiled. "Just testing you."

"Well I'm all set, thanks."

Jack turned to leave, his arms holding a bag filled with what Chuck guessed was everything valuable he'd kept in the office. "Take care of my daughter, Chuck," he called as he left.

"We take care of each other." The other man didn't turn, and quickly had disappeared out of sight.

"At least he's stopped calling me Schnook," Chuck said as he went to contact Beckman.

* * *

Hoping to break the other woman's silence, General Beckman meaningfully glanced at her watch. It was clear that she'd made her point, and she hoped that was enough to bring the conversation to a close. She sympathized with the other woman, or at least she would when she had more time.

"Can you guarantee that he'll be safe?" Ellie finally asked.

The General hated questions like that. They always seemed like a trap. "I can't make that guarantee. What I can tell you," she quickly added, "is that Chuck has become an exemplary agent. And that's not just because of the Intersect. And I can assure you that Agent Walker will do everything in her power to keep Chuck safe. Her devotion to his welfare is about as complete as I have ever seen."

The General wasn't going to provide any details. Telling Ellie about Chuck's recent capture and rescue would only make things worse.

"And I can also assure you that having Chuck on our side, protecting this country, makes everyone safer, including your family." Beckman gestured to Ellie's stomach.

Ellie listened to all of this, but still shook her head when the General had finished. "It's not enough," shook her head.

"It's the best I can offer."

The younger woman once again sat there quietly. The General was about to clear her throat to subtly get things moving when Ellie began to push herself to her feet. The General got up to offer her a hand, but she was refused.

"I guess I need to have a heart-to-heart talk with my brother," she sighed. "But I'll consider what you've said."

"Good."

"You know," Ellie said once she was comfortably standing, "things would have been much easier if you had been open and honest from the beginning."

The General shrugged. "We're the CIA. We don't _do_ open and honest."

The doctor stared at Beckman, and then chuckled. As she reached for the door, she said, "You might be right about Chuck, about what this job means to him. But I don't think you understand him and Sarah as much as you think. There's more to love than just camaraderie and teamwork."

Beckman knew she was probably right. That part of her life hadn't gone _entirely_ dormant, after all. Feeling the need to say something further, she asked, "Boy or girl?"

Ellie smiled briefly. "A girl."

"Don't just treat her like a girl all of the time. We don't all turn out to be ballerinas and princesses. Remember, she can do anything she wants."

"Of course," Ellie responded as she walked away, "she's a Bartowski."

The General had seen enough to know that the younger woman was right, so she wasn't going to debate that. She didn't have time anyway. She had a Castle to inspect. And judging by the message on her phone, yet another Bartowski to deal with.

**End**

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* * *

**

_As I was writing the last chapter, I realized that The Chuck/Jack story seemed to be quite similar to the movie "Grosse Point Blank." I figured at that point I should just embrace the rip-off…er, homage, and go with it. I stopped short of having Chuck smash the TV on one of the assassin's head. And besides, that movie has been referenced multiple times by the show itself, and they don't own the movie any more than I do._

_One thing I suppose I do "own" is Kelly, who has now appeared in three of my stories. She always seems to turn up in awkward situations too. Not sure if there's any significance to her, other than my laziness when it comes up to making up character names._

_Well, I hope you enjoyed this three-parter. I'm planning a next one, tentatively titled "Hostile Takeovers on a Tuesday."_

_As always, reviews are greatly appreciated!_


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